Call A War Religion
by BloodyCrystal
Summary: Fire Emblem 9/10. 30 glimpses into various characters from or aspects of the game. Rating for safety. "He will live and die the only way he knows how."
1. As High As Honor

**BloodyCrystal:** So, this started as an experiment where I took 30 quotes (from various places, including book titles, song lyrics, phrases, etc.) and decided to try and write a story for each quote. This is a lot like, say, the 31 Days LJ community, except that I didn't take their prompts. So, I hope you enjoy this as I continue to (slowly) crank these out.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fire Emblem 9 or 10, or any characters or plot devices from said games.

**Summary: **Micaiah and Naesala, pre-final battle, spoilers for Naesala and Daein; the hardships of joining forces with your former enemies when you never really wanted to oppose them.

**As High As Honor**

Micaiah stood defiantly, looking at Commander Ike and King Tibarn. "I cannot answer that at this point in time," she told them, regretfully. "I would like to, but I _cannot_. Please, do not ask me this again. I promise I will tell you when I can, and you must accept that." The silver-haired woman turned and left before either of the men could pressure her further.

Daein's Commander strode through the camp until she reached the outskirts where she finally stopped, content to catch her breath and mull over what she could not, as of yet, change. So caught up in her thoughts, Micaiah failed to notice the arrival of Kilvas' King, Naesala, until he addressed her, "they do not realize that, in your place, they would have done the same."

Micaiah looked at him rather solemnly, responding, "I fear that they would have found a solution long ago, whereas I have only just found one, and that they would have solved the problem by now." Glancing back at the surrounding, frozen landscape, she continued, bitterly, "they are both that capable, especially Ike if one were to listen to Sothe's stories."

Naesala nodded in agreement, informing his younger companion, "too true. Those two are fairly resourceful and both can become quite driven. Although I have to wonder that they have not considered themselves in your position. Perhaps someone should suggest that to them…" he trailed off, looking down at the golden-eyed woman.

"No," Micaiah replied, shaking her head. "I would not wish this upon anyone. It is so very, very wrong, but my love for my country….it proves stronger than any morals, any sense of right or wrong…is that why you betrayed the Laguz Alliance, King Naesala? Love of country?"

The Raven King snorted, shifting uncomfortably, before sighing and admitting, "what other reason would lead me to anger Reyson yet again? Especially after all that I did to earn his forgiveness three years ago. And even Tibarn…even Tibarn I would not wish to anger or hurt this much. But for Kilvas?" He looked at her, considering her rather closely. "Oh, the things I have done and would still do for Kilvas…"

"I care not if the rest of the world sees me as worse than Ashnard," Micaiah replied, smiling without hesitation at the Laguz king who had the same motives that she did. "For Daein, I would gladly wash myself in blood, if only it will be best for my country's sake and safety."

Naesala inclined his head, a smile-smirk of his own twisting onto his features. "Your 'brother' is looking for you," he told her, gesturing back towards the center of the camp.

Micaiah started walking slowly, looking back at Naesala. She was hesitant to break the peace that his understanding had given her, but he made a shooing motion. The Priestess of Dawn smiled at the King of Kilvas before running back into camp, returning to her shadow's side.

_Please, Yune, let King Naesala find someone who sides with him the way that Sothe sides with me._


	2. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken

**Summary: **Daein, during part I; no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't kill the spirit of Daein.

**Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken**

Daein had been strong, but no longer.

The men were in work camps, laboring under back- and spirit-breaking labor. The women and children struggled and scrounged to survive. The kingdom that had once prized strength could no longer defend itself.

Daein had been a sovereign kingdom, but no longer.

The Daein citizenry had no say in their lives. The Begnion rulers decided everything without a seeming thought for those who lived in the country. The old government was dead, arrested, hiding. The Begnion Occupation Army was interested only in having a free reign without having to answer to anyone. The Begnion "governor" was interested only in lining his own pockets. The chains weren't visible, but they were there.

Daein had been free, but no longer.

Daein was conquered, but it had hope.

A silver-haired maiden calls light down on unchecked bandits. A whisper of green and a flash of a knife blade downs a corrupt soldier. An arrow flies straight and true. A smile is hidden by a sword. A gentle man defends his country.

Daein was hurt, but it would heal.

Calloused hands pass timbers that will rebuild ruined cities. A group of people return at last to the place they had once called home, determined to make it theirs again. Children laugh and play tag in the streets without fear. The country is reborn once again.

Daein was bent, but not broken.


	3. I May Not Lead

**Summary: **Pelleas, spoilers for Part III; how do you choose death so easily when you owe it to your kingdom to not let your position fall into contention?

**I May Not Lead**

He was a weak king, and he knew it.

He could complain about how it was Izuka's fault for being a spy and misleading him, but he had allowed Izuka to mislead and otherwise manipulate him.

He could complain about how was he supposed to know it was a blood pact? He had been raised as a peasant and there was no way he could have recognized anything so complicated. Besides, no one else who had seen it had recognized it as such. But he was supposed to be the king of Daein, and it was his duty to be alert to things such as a blood pact.

He had dithered and fretted about the blood pact, doing and saying nothing but what Begnion told him to, unable to even think of a way to prevent it. No, it had taken _Micaiah_ to come up with a way out. It had taken _Micaiah_ to come up with a plan, the strategy that they were following.

Micaiah. It always came back to the Priestess of Dawn. She felt friendship and respect for him, but he didn't deserve either of those. Sothe was right when he said that he and Micaiah should leave, but he had begged, and Micaiah had sided with him because he was king and because she loved Daein.

And now, now he had the answer, and all it needed was his own life. That was easy enough, he had now decided. He was a terrible king, weak-willed and indecisive, but his death would save his country. And next time, next time maybe they would choose the correct ruler, pick Micaiah, and she would lead their country to prosperity and greatness.

He was sad that he wouldn't get to see that golden age, but his country needed his death, and so that's what he would give.


	4. Palm of God

**Summary: **Micaiah, Sothe, and Yune, _way_ post-Endgame; when she returns, who shall be there to greet her? Will they smile, or will they fear?

**Notes: **Made non-applicable if you recruit Lehran and see him speak to Ashunera after the Epilogue

**Palm of God**

Micaiah smiled, reaching out a hand to her goddess. "Welcome back, Yune," she breathed.

"Have you all forgiven me?" Yune asked, eyes wide and sad.

Sothe scowled, and told her, "how could we not have, when you've forgiven us? That's what Commander Ike said, right? So, that's what we're abiding by."

Yune smiled shyly, but her hands continued to clutch her yellow dress, neither of them making a move towards Micaiah's.

"What on Tellus are you waiting for?" Sothe demanded, crossly.

Yune's eyes widened, and then returned to normal size as she giggled, and both of her hands reached out for Micaiah.

The Queen of Daein caught both hands with both of hers. "Your hands are so small," Micaiah noted in wonder, "for one who helped to create everything."

Yune giggled, and announced, "I want to be carried!" Micaiah laughed at this, but Sothe groaned, aware that he would be the one carrying the child-like goddess around.

"Welcome back, Yune, goddess of chaos," Micaiah told the goddess who had always been with her.

"It's very good to be back," the goddess of chaos whispered. "So very, very good."


	5. I'm Not Unfaithful

**Summary: **Lethe/Ranulf, unrequited Lyre/Ranulf, side-helping of Mordecai, probably post-Endgame; sometimes, Lyre's big mouth causes more harm than she realizes.

**Notes: **I'm so not proud of this one, but it was what came to mind.

**I'm Not Unfaithful**

"I'm not! Honest, Lethe, I swear to you by Yune that I'm not!" Ranulf wailed, miserably trailing after the other cat laguz as she stalked away from him.

Purple eyes blazed over at him as Lethe slanted him a look. "Then _why_ is my sister bragging about it?" the orange-haired laguz demanded.

Ranulf's eyes widened in horror. "She's _bragging_ about something like that?" Suddenly realizing how that might have sounded, "Lethe, Lethe that doesn't mean—"

"I don't want to hear it, Ranulf!" Lethe snapped, before turning into her cat form and bounding off.

_Was she…was she _crying_ before she ran off? Oh, by Yune, I could _kill_ Lyre right now…_

"Ranulf," broke in on his musings. Jerking up, the blue-haired cat stared into Mordecai's understanding eyes. "Ranulf, you should go after Lethe, and show her why you are not unfaithful."

Thinking about it for a moment, an idea of just how to do that came to Ranulf's mind. "Yeah, yeah you've got a point there. Hey, Mordecai, can you stall anyone else?"

"Mordecai will do that," the gentle tiger promised.

"Thanks, I owe you," Ranulf called as he turned into his cat form and followed Lethe's scent into the forest.

When he finally found her, the commander of Gallia's army could definitely smell the saltwater in Lethe's scent that meant tears, however few, and he found his fury with Lyre's flirting rising to a new level. Damnit, didn't she _know_ that her twin was insecure about her relationship with him? Putting Lyre aside for the moment, Ranulf crept closer to Lethe, hoping to get as close to her as possible.

The orange-furred cat whirled around, hissing and striking out at him, but Ranulf was prepared for something like that, and so he dodged. "Lethe, let me explain to you," a sweep of her claws which he narrowly evaded, "why exactly I have no interest in Lyre."

Lethe regarded him suspiciously, but backed off with the claws, even turning back to her other form. Ranulf sighed in relief and did the same before striding over to her. Narrowed purple eyes regarded him as he bent down slightly. Before she could guess his intent and dodge away, his arms were around her waist, pulling her tight against him.

Ranulf ignored Lethe's struggles to be free as he breathed in her scent, enjoying the spikes that anger gave it. "I love you, Lethe," he whispered in her ear. "I chose you, not Lyre, and I should hope that I know enough to not make a mistake. Yes, Lyre flirted with me, but that doesn't mean anything. I love you, not Lyre, but Lethe."

Lethe's struggles had stopped and she regarded him somewhat suspiciously. "You're sure you didn't make a mistake?" Lethe demanded.

In response, Ranulf leaned in, positive that he could convince her better with actions than with words.


	6. Hate Me If You Want To

**Summary:** Deghinsea, spoilers for part IV; his motives were just, his actions were righteous...or so he believed.

**Hate Me If You Want To**

Deghinsea, King of Goldoa, was said to be a passive king. He didn't interfere with any events outside of Goldoa, no matter how terrible, nor did he seem horribly concerned by anything that happened save to warn against starting wars that enveloped the entire continent. It was true that he was old—practically a living fossil, Tibarn of Phoenicis half-joked—and that he had known the goddess, but that didn't mean that he should automatically stay out of everything in the "outside world," or so the other laguz kings thought.

But the Black Dragon King knew his duty to his goddess, and he knew that any interference he or his kind offered would result in Yune—and Ashera—awakening. And he couldn't let that happen, for the sake of the future.

There were other ways to interfere than fighting, as he knew, but the other laguz kings never seemed to understand that. Perhaps because they had short lives they could not look ahead, but that was no excuse; the promise made to the goddess must not be so easily forgotten, even if he had hidden the genocides that had resulted in Yune sinking the other continents, not to mention the truth of Yune.

It was for the promise. It was all, always, for the promise. Lehran, the only other still alive, had lost sight of that promise through his too kind heart before even two hundred years had passed. It had caused the heron grief, as Deghinsea knew too well to his own sorrow, and the king of Goldoa regretted Lehran's hurts. But there wasn't anything he could do, for it was the other's own choice.

Just as it was the choice of the other, short-lived, laguz tribes and the even shorter-lived beorc to fight and kill each other.

Deghinsea knew all of this, and it saddened him, but he remained firm. Not even for his daughter, her son, and his older son could he bend or break. No matter how much hurt they went through, no matter how scarred his heart became, the caring dragon had to be hidden behind the stern and unyielding king.

No matter what epithets were thrown at him, no matter who turned on him, Deghinsea would remain true to his promise and his goddess.


	7. Rosary

**Summary:** Mia; hiding my burden with a smile of summer.

**Notes:** We really don't get to see much of Mia's background in the game, even with support conversations. So, I decided to make something up based off of the fact that I kept on giving her the Wo Dao.

**Rosary**

Mia fingered the beads that were, next to her Wo Dao, her most treasured possession. When the Commander said to pack light, all she grabbed besides her weapons and a few food packs was the beaded necklace that she had managed to salvage from the place that had once been her home.

When the indigo-haired swordswoman had been a child of eight, her extended family—all of whom had lived together in a villa in the middle of nowhere—had been attacked by bandits looking for the Wo Dao she still carried to this day. Mia had barely escaped, clutching sword and beaded necklace, lashing out at anyone she saw until she reached a major city and was taken in by an orphanage.

Mia knew she would never forget her family, not when she had the sword forms they had taught her and the sword they had died to protect, but sometimes their faces grew fuzzy. And when that happened, the young woman would finger the necklace that she had taken, clinking the perfectly spherical opal beads, and would pretend that each bead was a different member of her family.

Mother had told her that the necklace was a memory chain, made so that each bead was a different person, and Mia figured that they wouldn't mind if she replaced them with her own family; after all, these were her ancestors, so they wouldn't mind sharing with their descendents.

This bead was mother, her dark violet curls pulled back by a pale yellow kerchief and her cheeks lightly dusted with flour…Grandfather, old and wrinkled, teaching her sword forms with the slender practice sword that was the same weight as his real one…Nina, form elegant as she danced with her sword under the moonless sky…Rane, green eyes blazing with determination as he cut down a group of intruders…

_Please forgive me for living, and bless me for my attempts to carry on the family style and line._ Mia clinked her opal beads, before tucking the necklace back under her clothes and heading out to the battle with her Wo Dao in hand and a smile on her face.


	8. Prayer Song

**Summary:** Lorazieh and Reyson, pre-FE9; embracing the dream while shunning reality, can you not see how much that hurts me?

**Notes:** Sorry that this is more than a week late. To make up for it, I'm posting two chapters at once. Enjoy.

**Prayer Song**

The forest rang with the music of heron laguz calling out to each other, greeting the rising sun. Gentle figures wove through Serenes, tending to tasks that called out to them. In the center of the forest, children's laughter rang out as small children with delicate white, grey, and pale blue wings played intricate games that looked more like ritualized dances. A tall, slender man with white wings observed it all, a smile on his face as he answered questions and directed attention to what needed doing.

Lorazieh chuckled as little Leanne, barely seven years old, giggled and hid behind his legs. When Reyson came running in, eyes alight with mischief and looking around, Lorazieh relaxed, recognizing the game. His younger son's eyes looked up at him imploringly, silently asking where Leanne was, but Lorazieh shrugged, unwilling to give the game away. Reyson sighed and flapped away, searching for his sister elsewhere. As soon as he was gone, Leanne, giggling again, hugged her father's legs and left to find another hiding spot as the rules of the game dictated.

The forest was alive, swelling with laughter, love, and song, and nothing could go wrong. No matter what, nothing could go wrong.

In Phoenicis, Reyson watched his father dream, wondering what the crippled king saw in place of reality.


	9. Hear Me Roar

**Summary:** Gallia; unable to give up, we charge ahead with all of our might!

**Hear Me Roar**

The beast tribe was known for their refusal to give up. No matter the odds, they charged forward, roaring defiance, smashing the foe with their immense strength. It was often said by other laguz that the beast tribe simply didn't know how to surrender.

But then came the disaster of the Laguz-Beorc War; Skrimir's crippling loss to General Zelgius, the failed attempt to retreat across the Ribahn River, being forced to stumble through the Kauku Caves and ending up in Goldoa rather than Gallia. The brave beast tribe was forced into a quick retreat, barely avoiding their pursuers, almost beaten back to their own kingdom.

So much for the brave beast tribe who never retreated.

The shame was almost too much for the tribe to bear. If it hadn't been for General-turned-King Skrimir, they never would have recovered. If he hadn't forced them to move past the shame and see what they had managed to accomplish, the beast tribe might have never been able to trust their own strength again.

But they recovered. They regained their bravery, relearned their strength, rediscovered the fearlessness personalities that had made them so confident in the first place.

They would never again be so brash, but they would not be crippled into cowards. Their strength would not be contained, their bravery would not be rivaled, and their headstrong nature would not be decimated.

They remained the proud beast tribe, submissive to no one!


	10. It's Really Good To Hear Your Voice

**Summary:**Misaha; I am lonely and I am losing my strength, but your hand in mine gives me the strength I never had.

**Notes: **Made AU by the memory scene between Sephiran and Misaha in the Tower of Guidance; spoilers for Micaiah and Sephiran

**It's Really Good to Hear Your Voice**

Misaha, heir to the thirty-fifth Apostle of Begnion, was bored. As in, really, _really_ bored. There was nothing for a curious fifteen-year-old girl to do in Mainal Cathedral, or in Sienne at all, really. Not when Misaha didn't want to play politics or flirt with young noblemen who she might or might not end up marrying. No, the young princess was bored of all that.

In fact, she was bored of being the next Apostle.

Oh, she loved hearing the goddess's voice, but the goddess spoke mostly to her mother, the Apostle. Misaha was mostly below the goddess's notice, the violet-haired girl supposed, and probably would be until she became Apostle—_if_ she became Apostle. Her mother might live long enough for _Misaha's_ daughter to come of age.

Well, that was becoming unlikely, Misaha knew. After all, she had that mark now, the one that proclaimed her laguz blood. Misaha had been very careful to keep her mark hidden even from her mother and the goddess, because Sephiran had told her to not let anyone know. Misaha wished she could at least tell the goddess, and wondered at her ancestor's warning to not tell her.

As if thoughts could summon her, the goddess's presence loomed in Misaha's mind and eyes, a friendly aura that enhanced everything that happened around Misaha rather than blinding her to the outside world. "**Why so sad, my daughter?****Surely you are not so fed up with life so young?**" the distant midnight voice whispered.

Phrasing her thoughts as arrows, the young princess sent out, _I am lonely, my mother. I have no friends, for everyone here seeks only to use me._

"**Oh, my child, I fear that you will never love neither husband nor son, but the granddaughter that you know will be a treasure to you for the time that you know her,**" the goddess promised.

Many years later, Apostle Misaha, thirty-sixth Empress of Begnion, looked down on her young granddaughter and smiled. "Hello there," the young-looking woman cooed. "Come to see me work, sweetheart?"

Misaha didn't really expect an answer, since the child hadn't spoken in her presence before, seemingly shy around her grandmother, so the girl surprised her with a shy, quiet, "hello, Grandmother." The Apostle of Begnion stared, but that wasn't the last of the surprises. "Grandmother, what is this?"

The dark-haired ruler stared at her descendant's right hand, tawny eyes taking in the intricate red marking on the young girl's hand. "Micaiah, sweetie," Misaha told her granddaughter, "you have just helped me solve a very important problem. Thank you for showing this to me. Now, why don't you stay here with me? I know someone who will be very pleased to meet you, and he can explain everything."

_You win, Sephiran. I'll tell them what I am and free the slaves. I'll enrage the entire damn nobility. And the only reason I'm doing it is because of the granddaughter that the goddess promised me. So you had better protect her, because the Senate, at least, will be out for our blood. Ah, Micaiah! Only for you, my dear, dear child._


	11. All the Same

**Summary:** Shinon; every day is just like the one before.

**All the Same**

Another day, another battle. Each battle is longer than the last, each plan is slightly different from yesterday's, whom you fight by shifts according to weather and what weapons the enemy soldiers are using. But nothing else changes.

Your grip on the bow is still firm (like it would ever be anything less), your eyes are still sure (you're not that old yet), your aim is still steady (your hands are callused but they don't shake without your express approval), your resolve has not lessened (if anything it's burning brighter, telling you to live on). Your leader is still an arrogant young puppy (he's older by a bit, and more muscled, and maybe just maybe he knows what he's doing now, but you're not going to tell _him_ that, he might think you approve or something), your preferred partner is still a girl-chasing idiot (but he's like the younger brother you never wanted, and at least he still has some of his happy-go-lucky personality intact), your student still looks at you with hero-worship in his eyes (and, Goddess, you want to shake that out of him, _I'm not perfect_ you want to scream, but he never listens!), your comrades are still some of the quirkiest humans you've ever met (but they're family, and you don't want them to change).

It's not the life of luxury that you keep on claiming that you want, but it's not the worst life you could live. Hell, you could be one of those no-names that you kill battle after battle, second after second, like they're nothing. And they are nothing. Just shock-troops, cannon fodder, thrown in your way in a pathetic attempt to slow you down.

Not like they really matter; they're just bodies, waiting to be killed, and you're just the executioner, come to do your job.


	12. Family, Duty, Honor

**Summary:** Oscar; when your honor lies with your duty, it is not all that hard to choose.

**Notes:** Okay, so I didn't want to do this publicly, but there was no way to contact the person who did this and thus keep it private. So, for everyone reading this: I am not taking suggestions. I have a set of themes that my sister helped me develop, and I am working with the characters while staying in the boundaries set by the themes. I know what I am doing for most of the themes, and the ones that I don't know, well, I'll figure it out _on my own_. /end rant

**Family, Duty, Honor**

Oscar's hand clenched tighter on the scrap of parchment that had just been delivered to him. _That…_ How the woman had managed to abandon her own son—_and my father!_—was beyond the young knight. Family was supposed to stick together and care about each other. Obviously, that woman wasn't aware of such an important fact. If the green-haired man had time then he would hunt her down and teach her himself, but he had a decision to make.

_I cannot abandon my family,_ he reminded himself. _They have always depended on the money I earned as a knight, but now Boyd needs my help in a different way—and Rolf, too. He _is_ my brother, and that woman abandoned him with us._

It was a simple decision. Kieran, if he knew, would scream and rant about honor and duty, but Oscar felt like his decision was the honorable and dutiful one. After all, his honor came from being able to protect his family, and his duty was to care for them. He would miss the secondary family that the Royal Knights had almost become, but it really was a very simple decision.

Sitting down, Oscar began to write a letter he had hoped to never have to write.

_Lord Renning,_

_ I regret to inform you that I am resigning from my post as a member of the Royal Knights…_


	13. The Gods Themselves

**Summary:** The Branded; it's easy to be hated, but it can break your heart to be ignored.

**The Gods Themselves**

They were the unknown, the unloved, the unnamed. The Parentless to the Laguz; the Branded to the Beorc. Hated by both, feared by both.

But they were powerful. They had abilities that would let them change the world—if anyone would let them try.

Power, speed, magical ability, defense, knowledge—they embodied these characteristics, and were feared for them.

But most of them didn't want to be feared. They wanted respect, acceptance, love. They wanted friends and a family. They wanted to be normal.

They weren't normal. They were odd, both in looks and in personality. Wild and quiet, icy and caring, cheerful and pessimistic.

Neither Beorc nor Laguz, neither short-lived nor immortal, neither strong nor weak, neither alive nor dead. They are the Branded and the Parentless, not known by Beorc and Laguz.

Not even known by the Goddess Herself, in whose name they are hated.


	14. Ours is the Fury

**Summary: **The hawk tribe; some things can never be forgiven, but it's so hard to stay angry when he repents so sincerely.

**Ours Is The Fury**

They had been betrayed just when they had thought that they were going to make peace with the raven tribe, their trust allowing the near-annihilation of them all. Just when their king had been saying that he thought this war would bring some good in the form of a reconciliation, the ravens showed their true colors.

Never again would the hawks trust the ravens. Murderers with blood-tipped wings, black as night, they would be destroyed for the destruction of Phoenicis.

The hawks fought hard and long and vicious, determined to wreak their revenge. Their fury was great, unquenchable and unstoppable until they had attained vengeance. But then the light turned them to statues, and their fury was contained.

And then when they were revived, it was to find that they were making peace with Begnion, albeit with a great many concessions to their side. After all, they and the heron tribe would have Serenes Forest.

But King Tibarn wasn't done just yet. He declared that the ravens would be living with them, three tribes in one forest. King Tibarn explained that this was so that a massacre wouldn't happen again.

The hawks still cried for justice, for vengeance; their honor, their pride, their blood all demanded it.

And Naesala, the former king of the ravens, gave it. He said that until he had atoned he would not go to Serenes Forest. He would not intrude on the peace and serenity of the forest until he had earned it.

And blood and pride and honor were satisfied.

Although, revenge was a tad bit dimmed, for Naesala had taken it upon himself rather than having it forced upon. And the fury of the hawks dimmed, just a bit, for it was harder to stay angry with a repentant than it was to hate someone who was proud of what they had done.


	15. Winter Is Coming

**Summary: **The Raven Tribe; Naesala's greatest sin is one that only his countrymen cannot forgive.

**Notes:** Naesala sure is getting a swelled head with all this attention, isn't he? Too bad it's because I'm being somewhat mean to him.

**Winter Is Coming**

The raven laguz were often called the worst of the laguz. They did their best to make a profit from everything, they lied and schemed for the highest bidder of the moment, and they had the loosest morals of any laguz tribe.

The Lion King ignored them, the Hawk King sneered at them, and the Dragon King scolded them.

The beorc of Crimea had nothing to do with them, the beorc of Daein would hunt them, and the beorc of Begnion would alternatively hunt them, sell them, or deal with them.

But they didn't care. They had pride and morals of their own, and if no one else on this world understood that, than that was fine.

The raven tribe was proud of their current king, pleased with how he led them and what he did. They weren't happy about slaughtering the hawk tribe, but their king had assured them that he had a good reason and that had been enough. Their king never lied to _them_, after all.

After the war, when King Naesala explained why he did what they did, their hearts went out to him. He had done everything to protect them, even becoming king and following the demands of the Begnion Senate so as to keep them safe and alive.

And then, just when they were all willing to do anything for their king, just so that he would stay with them and not be killed by someone who didn't, _couldn't_, understand why he'd done what he had, King Naesala had announced his resignation. He had told them that the bird tribes were going to live together in Serenes Forest so as to overcome their differences. The Empress of Begnion had promised and the heron tribe had begged and the Hawk King had decreed, and the Raven King had relented and accepted the inevitable with a great deal more grace than had been expected of him.

"You'll be happy under Tibarn," Naesala promised. "He won't treat any of you any better or worse than his hawks," Naesala declared. "You'll be happy and safe under him, and you won't have to worry about pirating for a living," Naesala decreed.

And so the raven tribe moved in with the hawk tribe and the heron tribe, but their (former) king left them. He left to try and atone for what he saw as his bitterest sins, just when his tribe had truly given him their hearts and minds.

It was going to be a long, hard time trying to get over this greatest, most unintentional, failing of Naesala's.


	16. Shrine

**Summary:** Ashera, spoilers for the end of Part III, beginning of Part IV; perfection is the only goal.

**Shrine**

She slept, deep in her temple, while the world changed around her. She didn't know how it changed, for there was no one to talk or sing to her. She didn't know that it changed, either, for she saw no difference when she awoke. War was still prized over all by the chaotic creatures the Zunanma had become and they simply could not get along.

Where had it all gone wrong? How far back did she have to look to find the problem? What would she have to do in the future to keep such a mistake from happening again?

Part of the problem was obviously Yune. Without her other half complicating matters, there would be less chaos in the equation and order would reign supreme. The new world that she would create would be perfect. There would be no war, there would be no hatred, there would be no genocide.

Nothing could go wrong this time, for she was finally as she was meant to be. And this time, she would not leave development up to chance. She would oversee every step of every creature. Finally, at long last, she would have a peaceful world. It was all for the best, and no one would dare to suggest or do otherwise.

She would remake this imperfect world, and her new one would have no flaws. Just like her.


	17. Growing Strong

**Summary: **Nephenee, late Part III; she is strong enough to defend what she truly cares about.

**Growing Strong**

Nephenee was really just a simple country girl at heart. She cared about all of Crimea, of course, but Ohma was always on her mind, drawing her in. She had never really wanted to leave her hometown, but both times Crimea had called. And both times, Nephenee had answered the call. She loved her country, and she would give her all for it. After all, it was the place where her friends and family lived.

This time, she had thought that it would just be a simple matter of putting down Ludveck's rebellion. Go and tell Queen Elincia, possibly help the Royal Knights take care of the insurrection, and then go home. She had never expected to be drawn into helping Commander Ike yet again, but here she was, miles from home, and once more fighting against Dain. As Nephenee struggled across the trap-laden bridge, she blinked furiously to clear her sight of the falling snow.

_Just a bit longer, and then we'll be done,_ she promised herself. _Just hang in there for a few more days._ She paused to launch her lance through the air towards a swordsman heading for Shinon, and then hurried forward to retrieve her weapon.

As she reclaimed her lance, however, Nephenee felt an odd tingly feeling. _What in the name of the Goddess?_ Somehow, someway, she felt stronger, more knowledgeable, more skilled. Her lance felt lighter, her armor more comfortable. _Have I truly reached the next level,_ she wondered. _Am I truly skilled enough to be a Sentinel? Based on the way her armor fit, Nephenee was willing to bet on __yes._

_Now, at last, perhaps I have the skills to truly defend my home!_ With a ululating war cry, the green-haired Sentinel charged into the fray, eyes intent and lance steady. _For Ohma!_


	18. Balance

**Summary: **Hatari; despite the elements, they survived.

**Balance**

Hatari was beyond a desert that dealt death, and so its populace had learned how to cope with the dry, punishing heat and the scarcity of water. Hatari had few gardens, and all of them were devoted to growing food. The fountains were nonexistent, replaced by pumps so that no water was ever wasted. The buildings were the yellow-red of sandstone, and the windows were many and large, with canvas covers and doors.

The days were long and hot, and the nights were short and chill. There was beauty there, to be sure, and there was time to appreciate it, but most time was devoted to survival.

Laguz, Beorc, and Branded were all hardy, and not much given to daydreams. They were practical and innovative, fixing problems with a minimum of fuss. Most of them could fight, for there were bandits and Outcasts, but few were warriors by profession. Everyone had a specialty, and they all worked together to make their small homeland live. And if they didn't thrive in the harsh landscape, at least they were not always on the verge of extinction.

All who lived in Hatari were aware of the price that they paid to the desert that both fought them and sustained them. It was a careful balance, but they made sure to be respectful of their greatest foe. It was a delicate existence, and the smallest decision could tip the scale one way or the other. But the rulers of Hatari led their people through the difficult times and the easier times, respecting the desert and protecting the citizens of Hatari.

It wasn't always much, but it was what they had. It was home.


	19. Love From Above

**Summary: **Yune, early Part IV; she is selfish, but perhaps that is for the best.

**Notes: **Sorry it's late, but yesterday was a travel day.

**Love From Above**

They were all just so interesting. They fought, they cried, they laughed, they killed, they saved—in short, they _lived_. Beorc and Laguz alike, they were constantly in motion, changing and evolving to be something different than they were the day before. They just didn't _stop_, and she loved that about them.

Let Ashera wish that they would hold still and be what they wanted to be; _she_ wanted to see them work towards what they wanted to be without ever reaching it. It was one of the fundamental differences between the two of them, Yune knew, and it was part of what would have eventually ripped them apart even if she hadn't lost her temper and drowned the other continents.

No matter what Beorc and Laguz did these days, she couldn't help but love them. Provided they stopped trying to kill each other, there was no reason she shouldn't love them. But if they ever stopped changing, she wouldn't love them. And that was why she had to stop Ashera. Ashera wanted to remake the world into a place that never changed, a sterile land that had no creation or imagination or spontaneity. And Yune just couldn't let that happen. It would be boring, and the beings that lived there would come to hate such an unchanging place. At least, the beings with life and sass would hate it.

For them, Yune would stop Ashera from remaking the world. For them, Yune would keep the world alive and vibrant and evolving. But for the beings that couldn't and didn't change, she would try and let Ashera have some control over the world, so that they could have their consistency. For without the beings that didn't change, there would be no beings that _did_ change. And that was unthinkable.


	20. The Year of Our War

**WARNING!! SPOILERS AHEAD!!**

**Summary:** Lehran, way post-game; it was terrible and it was painful, but it was theirs.

**Notes: **Spoilers if you haven't played the game through at least twice and haven't recruited Sephiran. Slight Sephiran/Zelgius, so don't read if you don't like or can't tolerate yaoi.

**The Year of Our War**

It had not gone exactly as planned, but the year had gone mostly as they had wanted it to go. A war that engulfed the continent had been started, and Ashera awakened. It had been a long and painful year, for the pair of them as well as for everyone else, but it had accomplished what they wanted it to.

Or so Lehran told himself. If he didn't keep repeating that, over and over, then it was all for nothing, and all that Zelgius had had to do was for nothing. It wasn't like that made Zelgius' death easier to accept, but Lehran had managed to stop blaming himself for that by now. After all, Zelgius had chosen it, separate from everything that Lehran had asked of him.

Despite all that had happened, Lehran couldn't help but think back fondly of that year. He knew that he shouldn't, really, because of all of the pain it had caused, but it had been something precious. It had been his and Zelgius'. The last thing that they had had together. The last thing that they would ever have together until Lehran passed from this world.

Truly, that year had been theirs. Their time, their purpose, their war, their lives. Their year.


	21. Alleluia

**Summary:** Post-game; a hymn of praise soars through the land.

**Alleluia**

_Long live God._

The bells rang out, cheerful, as if they had never been stilled, never stopped sounding their message partway through.

_Long live God._

People chatted in the marketplaces, in the village squares, in the dirt road of tiny hamlets, confused as to what had just happened, asking each other "what was that light? What just happened to us? Are you all right?"

_Long live God._

The soldiers who had been trying to kill each other stretched, stiff from being frozen, and tentatively smiled at one another, feeling an odd peace that they had all secretly hoped would come.

_Long live God._

In a tall tower in the middle of the capital of the largest nation on the continent of Tellius, a group of heroes from all walks of life and all sentient species that currently existed laughed in relief and finally put down weapons that had been wielded for too long.

_Long live God._

As she soared off, determined to one day return whole and complete, an incomplete goddess who loved her people spread life back through her land.

_Long live God._


	22. Atheist

**Summary: **Stefan; his question burns inside of him, and the answer is unexpected.

**Atheist**

Stefan had lived a long time, longer than he liked to let on even to his comrades. And in all his years of life, he had always had one question that he knew would never be answered: why?

Why were the Branded despised and hated? Why were they a sin in the Goddess' eyes? Why were they cast out, left to die, spat on, ignored? Why were they so different? Why did they cause such suffering to their parents? But most of all, why did they exist?

The green-haired swordsman was puzzled by the question of his existence most of all. It was the question he knew had the least likelihood of being answered, and so perversely he clung to it all the tighter, making it the center of his being.

When he actually found himself face to face with a goddess, Stefan didn't ask his question; he simply told her about himself and the others. He watched her horrified expression as she demanded to know how this had happened, crying that she hadn't even known it was possible for beings such as him to exist before she was sealed inside the medallion.

And so, faced with that, how could he do anything _but_ laugh? After all, there was his answer: his kind was a mistake, nonentities that had not been planned—just like everyone else. He was not a punishment of the goddess; he just was, self-willed, one might say, _just like the Zuanma_.

And so Stefan had his answer. And while it wasn't quite the best one, it was close enough.


	23. Crown of Stars

**Summary: **Sanaki, several years post-game; Sanaki watches her Senate and reflects on the importance of trust.

**Crown of Stars**

The young woman—girl, really—sat patiently in her throne, listening to her advisors and nodding when it seemed appropriate. It all still felt so surreal, like a bad dream that she would wake up from in the morning. But there would be no awakening from this dream, and she had to deal with how life would be from now on.

Some seats were still empty, she reflected, but that was all right; it was better to be patient than to end up with corruption and advisors fighting her every step of the way. She would be careful with filling those empty seats, as careful as she had been with the appointments that she had already made.

Her expression of polite interest changed to a smile when the new Vice Foreign Minister stood to give his report. He really was brilliant, she reflected, and completely loyal to her rather than to his own interests. Oh, he had plans of his own, true enough, but he put her needs before those plans.

The Vice Minister of Finance seated next to him was a genius with figures and was able to bargain down all of Begnion's expenses. For a surprise he wasn't embezzling any money out of the treasury, and was quick to point her eye towards any in her court who were living above their means--or below them.

Across the table from her was the Vice Minister of Internal Affairs, a cunning older man who had taught her how to play chess. There probably wasn't any fact in the whole of Begnion that he didn't know, and his spy system had been operating under his control since before she was born.

A glimpse of silver and blue at the corner of her eye was Sigrun, standing guard next to her throne, and Tanith stood firm by the door. Those two had given her so much, had in fact _raised_ her, with nothing in return save temper tantrums and her possessive fits, but both confessed that they would continue to do so no matter what.

Directly to her throne's left was an anomaly in the crowded room: a chair with no occupant. She glanced past it as if it didn't exist, focusing on the Vice Foreign Minister's report.

_Yes,_ Sanaki thought as the others began to ask questions, _there really is no need to be so quick at filling the other seats; trustworthy people are so very hard to find._


	24. The Trail of Tears

**Summary: **Elincia, post-game; the past is paved with tears and the future with good intentions.

**The Trail of Tears**

It had taken a lot to get this far, Elincia reflected as she looked at her reflection. So much of it had been painful, and there were definitely times when she wondered if it was truly worth it. When that happened she tried her best to focus on all of the good that had happened. _Father's dream has finally come true: there is peace on Tellius and Laguz and Beorc coexist. If only he were here to see it._

And that was the crux of it, the young queen knew. Her father and mother who had worked so hard for this peace in their lifetimes weren't there to enjoy it. Her uncle had been miraculously returned and was therefore able to appreciate it, but it still wasn't quite the same thing.

Then there was Greil, and his wife Elena, although Elincia had never met her. They had given their lives for the medallion, and the Heron Princess Lillia had died due to Ashnard's desire to release Yune.

All of those whom she now called friend had been through so many tough battles for the sake of a desperately wanted peace, and her own Crimea had almost been torn asunder by civil war, as had Begnion.

But if any of it were done differently, would they still have arrived at this peace? _Were all of those sacrifices worth it?_ Since they had all wanted peace so badly, Elincia could only hope that the answer was yes, but deep down she worried that the dead felt differently.

_Shoulders back, chin up_, she told herself firmly. Straightening, she made sure that there was no sign of her inner turbulance on her face before walking out of the door and heading for the signing of a peace treaty that would hopefully stand the tests of time.

There was no more looking back; the future was far too precious to waste on what ifs and a little girl's tears.


	25. Lotus

**Summary:** Ashunera and the Zuanma; they came from the muck of the universe, but in the beginning she didn't care.

**Notes:** The lotus represents spiritual beauty rising from sludge.

**Lotus**

In the beginning, Ashunera created the world. She molded it from the muck of the universe, her perfect hands becoming stained from her long, loving work. When she had finished molding her world, she washed her hands to clean them of the sludge that had become her world. She washed her hands for so long that excess water began to cover her world.

When she was done washing the dirt from her hands, the fire-haired goddess looked around at her world and realized that nothing on it could communicate with her. Ashunera was an immortal goddess, but she longed for company. She searched her world for many years, but she could not find anything or anyone with whom she could share her time. She wept for many years, and her tears joined the water from her washing, covering much of her world with water.

However, Ashunera's patience was rewarded when, one day, creatures approached her and spoke. The goddess was astounded. Where had these beings come from? What were they doing on her world? Why had they sought her out? And, most importantly, were they there to keep her company?

They had willed themselves into existence from the muck of the universe. They didn't know why they had willed themselves into existence on her world. They had come to her because they had heard her crying. And of course they would keep her company; anything to see her smiles rather than her tears.

Ashunera was delighted with that last answer. Suddenly, nothing else mattered. She didn't care where they had come from or what they called themselves; they were there for _her_.

Who cared if they came from the sludge of the universe? That was where her beautiful world had originated, after all.


	26. Holy Kiss

**Summary: **Laura, part III ch. 12; she knows, as surely as the rain is now falling, that they cannot win this war.

**Holy Kiss**

She twirled the staff with the ease of familiarity, the crystal at the top glowing with life and power. With a practiced wave, the glow sent out sparkles of light, motes that drifted onto the wound and sealed it closed as if it had never been. "Thanks," her patient called even as he plunged back into the mass of fighting at the base of the cliff.

Worried eyes followed the reckless swordsman, but the young woman knew that there was nothing she could do save continue healing those who pressed around her, struggling to keep the press of Allied forces from surging up the cliff to where Micaiah gave orders.

A terrible truth struck her as she stood, in the rain, listening to the clash of metal and the sounds of the dying: they were not going to win this war.

It was a terrible thought, and the black-haired woman wanted desperately to banish it with all of her might, but she knew, deep down, that it was true. They could not win against such overwhelming might. They should not even be fighting this war, not when they yet needed to repair their damaged country.

But Micaiah thought that this was the right thing to do. She was positive that this war could not be avoided and had to be done. So positive, in fact, that she was reverting to tactics that she had once refused to use on Begnion, whom they had all had so much more reason to hate.

The cream-clad woman swallowed, gulping down air as she wondered what could possibly be so terrible an alternative to fighting a losing war. _No matter what the outcome, we will be destroyed,_ the brown-eyed young woman realized. Tears leaked down her face, joining the rain that drizzled down from the sky onto the day's carnage.

Abruptly angry with herself, the young cleric mentally chided, _this is no time for despair! I must be at peace so that we might all live for as long as we can! The Goddess will give us a way if we can hold on for long enough!_

With such thoughts in mind, she raised up her staff, eyes on her friends, and began casting magic like everything depended upon it. The tide of battle _would_ turn, and they _would _manage to live another day. After that, the future would go as the Goddess willed it.

_Goddess, through my staff, grant my friends life on this day!_


	27. Would You Lie With Me

**Summary:** UnknownxUnknown; sometimes, you really just need to relax.

**Notes:** The characters were kept as vague as I could make them on purpose. Insert your favorite boy and girl pairing (crack or otherwise) that would be involved with politics and not living in Begnion. Sorry for being an indecisive writer, but I really couldn't decide which two characters would fit the scenario that I ended up writing.

**Would You Lie With Me**

She looked up as he entered the room, scowling and throwing the outer parts of his clothing down on the chairs spread throughout their sitting room. Carefully closing her book, she asked, "long day?"

He looked over at her and glared, but when met with her calm face he sighed and the scowl slipped off his face, replaced with a more neutrally exasperated expression. "You could say that again," he agreed, taking care to not respond with the hurtful comment that had been his first choice of response.

"Want to talk about it?" She sat up on the couch, all hints of redolent pleasure gone as she regarded him with those deep eyes of hers. When he scoffed, she chided, "it really does help, you know." She patted the sofa that she sat on, a gesture more command than invitation.

Lips quirking upwards in slight amusement at her assumption that he would do as she wanted, he nevertheless made his way over to her. "One of these days, I'll stop listening to those commands of yours," he warned.

She laughed, amused, and returned, "what commands? I said nothing that could be taken as a command, you realize." Her eyes gleamed with pleasure, and he snorted, glad that something so small kept her happy. However, her face slid back into a more serious expression as she asked, "what disaster happened this time?"

He groaned, cushioning his head in his hands, and admitted, "it's Begnion again. Sometimes I think that they're deliberately out to get us." At her questioning look, he explained, "they're being difficult about the trade treaties."

She allowed a soft tisking sound to escape, shaking her head at the folly of the other country. "They'll learn soon enough, especially with you there to beat the lesson into their representatives," she assured him, confidence ringing in her tones.

He relaxed again, placing his hand over the one she was letting rest on his near shoulder. "It's just that they're taking so long to realize it, I'm beginning to worry that there's more to it," he admitted.

"You need to take a break for a bit," she scolded, examining him. "Stay here for a few hours and I'll read one of the stories in this book to you."

He considered the offer. He really _should_ rest a bit, for it would be no good if he pushed himself too hard and wasn't able to work. "All right, one story can't hurt," he agreed. "And I've already taken off my jacket." Stretching himself out on the couch, he placed his head in her lap and closed his eyes, relaxing as fully as he could.

She smiled down at him, carefully running her fingers through his hair with one hand while the other propped the book open again. Soon the only sound in the room was her soft voice reading an old story as he allowed himself to drift to what he fondly imagined as less complicated times.


	28. Dead to the World

**Summary:** Ike, Soren, post part IV Endgame; they have left all that is familiar, and yet have found it anew.

**Warnings: **Slight IkexSoren. Spoilers for Ike and Soren's endings if they have an A-support at the end of the game.

**Notes:** Slightly AU and a hint of a rather odd "crossover," of sorts. Part one of three. Surprisingly, this and the next two were some of the first drabbles I wrote for this project. I can't believe I held off on posting them for so long.

**Dead To The World**

Ike looked around, old but still alert eyes taking in every detail of the bar around him. He hadn't expected his travels to attract Yune's attention, but he was grateful that she had helped him by taking him to this other world, a place that still needed his skills. And it also needed Soren's skills, Ike reflected, eyes shifting over to his traveling companion.

The black-haired mage looked back at him, as usual able to tell when Ike's attention shifted in his direction. Red eyes looked into blue before Ike nodded his head slightly and went back to looking around the tavern. It wasn't disconcerting to see Soren's lack of aging anymore, Ike decided. It was just something that _was_, and therefore unimportant. It kept the two of them moving, but Ike didn't mind that; moving was good, it kept old memories of Tellius from surfacing.

Although, memories of Tellius easily surfaced in this world of familiar-unfamiliar faces, people whom he had known in Tellius only with different relationships, personalities, and skills. It was unsettling, but Yune had warned him and Soren that this would happen, so he was prepared for it.

Ike nodded politely to the waitress, an orange-haired woman with striking violet eyes, when she took his and Soren's dishes away. The woman ignored his nod, but Ike wasn't surprised; she looked enough like Lethe that he had almost expected her reaction. Rising, he made his way to the exit, sensing Soren following him.

The two travelers made their way along the road, continuing on their path to explore—and fight bandits. A definite plus in this world was that bandits were still willing to fight him, whereas back in Tellius he had had difficulties with such things after killing Ashera. "Let's find some bandits, Soren," the sixty-two-year-old man announced, grinning like a child at the first snowfall. "I _really_ want to fight some bandits."

The older man, despite his young—and good—looks, sighed, shaking his head. "You're impossible, Ike," he mused, a hint of a smile brushing his lips.

"Smile bigger, Soren," Ike chided his long-time companion. "That way, we'll catch more bandits."

"What are they, flies?" the dark-clothed mage asked, an eyebrow rising in disbelief that he knew he shouldn't be feeling; it _was_ Ike that he was talking with, after all.

"Of course," the sword-wielder replied, smirking. "After all, how else would there be so many in this world?"

Soren chuckled at that as the pair walked side-by-side down the road, both perfectly aware of the bandits that had begun stalking them.

_Many years ago now, a great warrior named Ike lived in Crimea. He was an ordinary mercenary who rose up to save first his kingdom, then later the world. After he defeated the Goddess Ashera in combat, he disappeared, never to be seen again. By now, he is believed by all the world to be dead, for otherwise he surely would have returned to see the peace that he wrought…_


	29. Let's See How Far We Go

**Summary: **Part two of three, Ike, Soren; together they will push the boundaries of impossible.

**Warnings:** Slight IkexSoren. Spoilers for Ike and Soren's endings if they have an A-support at the end of the game.

**Let's See How Far We Go**

"Ike," Soren called to his companion. The now greying swordsman glanced back at the mage, and then eased back so that the two were walking next to each other. When they were side-by-side, red eyes looking into blue, Soren continued, "how long are we going to travel like this?"

Ike blinked, and then laughed. "Do you even have to ask, Soren?" When the mage continued staring at him, the seventy-eight-year-old man sighed, and asked, "why are you asking that now, Soren?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the Branded mage demanded, red eyes flashing with suppressed anger. "You're growing old, Ike. Your reflexes are slowing and your strength is dwindling. We could settle down for the rest of your life, stop wandering and fighting bandits, and you can have some peace and quiet," the dark mage offered.

The Hero of Crimea examined his long-time friend carefully before sighing and explaining, "Soren, I understand your concern, and I really want you to know how grateful I am that you worry about me. But fighting is in my blood. I'm tired of 'save the world' fighting, I have been since Ashera, but that doesn't mean that I want to stop fighting." Pausing to glance at his companion again, Ike continued, "I don't want to settle down and die peacefully, to tell the truth. I want to die fighting, and the only people I want near me are my enemies and you."

Soren stared, amazed, before covering it up with his usual non-expression. "Very well, Ike; we shall continue on, until your last."

It went unsaid that Soren would have followed Ike even if Ike hadn't wanted him to, just as it went unsaid that Ike would have dragged Soren with him if Soren hadn't wanted to go with him.

"All right, then; let's see where this road takes us."


	30. Call a War Religion

**Summary:** Part three of three, Ike, Soren; he will live and die the only way he knows how.

**Warnings:** Slight IkexSoren. Spoilers for Ike and Soren's endings if they have an A-support.

**Notes: **Oh my gosh, I cannot believe that this is the end of this project. I have really enjoyed working on it, but I can't say that I'm upset to see it end, considering some of the trouble these prompts have given me. Nonetheless, please enjoy this. Perhaps if I have time and ideas I will expand on the universe that this and the previous two installments have taken place in.

**Call a War Religion**

Ike grinned as his sword cleaved the final bandit's head. He started cleaning the blade off as he turned, looking around for his companion. As usual these days, Soren found him first.

"Ike," the dark mage began, but he didn't get any further as Ike hugged him. "I-Ike!" the red-eyed Branded protested. "What if someone sees?"

"Who's going to see, Soren—the dead?" the eighty-four-year-old man asked, in a tone that suggested he was humoring the smaller man by answering. "No one comes up here because of the bandits, which would be why we're up here. They're not going to come looking for us, they'll assume the bandits got us. So I'm allowed to cuddle for a bit if I want to," the swordsman finished, hugging Soren a tad bit tighter.

Finally, reluctantly on both parts, Ike let Soren go and the two of them began rounding up bandit heads as proof of the kill. "That's all of them," Soren stated, and the two began trekking back to the village that had hired them.

The villagers were definitely surprised to see the two of them return, no worse for the wear, when one was a scrawny mage who looked to be in his early twenties at best and the other was an old man with grey hair and a craggy face.

"My, oh my," the village Elder, who was probably the same age as Ike, exclaimed. The fact that he looked and acted quite a bit like one of the village elders who (had) lived near Greil's Retreat made Ike laugh inside. "You two have certainly lived up to what you claimed! Here is your payment, and please, feel free to stay at the inn for as long as you wish to!"

Ike laughed. "Thanks for your offer, but we'll actually be on our way; we were heading for the Arago Mountains when we heard about your bandit problem, so we'll just go and continue on that way."

"Th-the _Arago Mountains_?" the Elder squeaked. "B-but that's where some of the strongest bandits are said to live!"

"Exactly," Soren replied, monotone.

"I-I realize that you two are quite good, but…but _why_ would you want to go looking for such strong bandits? Do…do you honestly enjoy fighting _that much_?"

Ike shrugged, rolling one of his shoulders back until it popped. "I don't really know anything _but_ fighting, and I kind of like it. It's a way to test my strength. And doing it against bandits doesn't do anybody much harm save the bandits."

"A-and you, young sir?" the village elder asked Soren. "Do you feel this way as well?"

"It doesn't matter," Soren replied. "I follow Ike, no matter what."

The traveling companions proceeded to walk out of the village, leaving one gaping Elder behind. When they rounded a bend that took them out of sight, Ike reached over and squeezed Soren's near hand, a silent _thank you_ for all that Soren put up with just to stay with Ike. Soren squeezed back, but didn't get why Ike was so surprised.

Trust and love were two of the strongest binding forces there ever were.


End file.
